


Baby Mine

by paintedrecs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Coalition Leader Allura, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Allura/Lance (Voltron), Minor Hunk/Shay (Voltron), POV Keith (Voltron), Post-Canon, Shiro has PTSD, canon divergent after season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 00:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20034541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedrecs/pseuds/paintedrecs
Summary: A few deca-phoebs after they've defeated Haggar, disbanded Voltron, and finally begun to settle into a hard-won peace, Kosmo starts stealing babies.That's the first problem.The second is that Shiro doesn't want to give them back.





	Baby Mine

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to the_deep_magic, who tweeted a photo of her dog with a baby, along with the caption: "I have no idea where that baby came from or who it belongs to!" I immediately thought, "Kosmo," swiftly followed by, "Poor Keith."
> 
> This fic is much less about the babies and more about Shiro's and Keith's relationship. I didn't think I'd write another canon compliant (through Season 7) fic, but! When Kosmo starts stealing babies, what can you do. Plus I wanted to see Sheith and Allura happy.

A few deca-phoebs after they've defeated Haggar, disbanded Voltron, and finally begun to settle into a hard-won peace, Kosmo starts stealing babies.

That's the first problem.

The second is that Shiro doesn't want to give them back.

“They're not _ours_,” Keith repeats, for at least the third time that morning.

Shiro doesn't seem to hear him at first—his body's angled away from Keith, towards the crib where a fuzzy purple Galra baby is gurgling happily—but Keith can see the edge of his jaw tightening. He's bracing for a fight, if Keith's willing to start one. Shiro doesn't dig his heels in often—it's something he's quietly told Keith he's working on, that they've begun to work on _together_—but that stubborn streak isn't something Shiro will ever let go of, not entirely.

Keith wouldn't want him to; he loves Shiro's passion, his commitment to what he believes is right—what he's decided is worth fighting for. That stubborn refusal to give up, even under the worst, most impossible circumstances, is what got all of them through the war. It's what brought Shiro back to Keith in the first place. And the second. And the third...

Keith closes his eyes for a few ticks, counting in his head, letting the tension wash over him until it dissipates into the baby-powder-scented air of their living area. If it were anyone other than Shiro—or if it were five deca-phoebs earlier, before Keith had gotten a solid handle on his sometimes volatile temper—he might've pushed harder, letting his irritation and worry spill over into anger.

Instead, he waits, until Shiro's jaw loosens. It doesn't take long: a handful of doboshes at most, with Shiro probably going through a similar process in his own head. He lets out a deep, audible sigh, bending over the crib slightly, as though the weight constantly resting on his shoulders has finally gotten a little too heavy to bear on his own. Keith waits, still, until Shiro is ready for him to reach out to help.

“You're right,” Shiro says, his voice carrying a weariness that isn't entirely due to physical exhaustion. With his back still turned to Keith, he adds, quietly, “I know we can't keep them, Keith. It's just that...it's something I never thought I'd be able to have.”

“A Galra baby?” Keith asks. While this particular baby doesn't belong to them, it's not a rarity; there are billions scattered across the universe. Technically, _he_ was one, many deca-phoebs ago.

Shiro lets out a soft huff of laughter and finally turns. “A family,” he says, his voice fond now that he's looking at Keith, but with the smile not quite reaching his eyes, the corners of his mouth still turned down in disappointment. He's taking this one hard.

Keith moves towards Shiro, almost on instinct, their emotions so inextricably tied together he can almost feel Shiro’s sorrow clogging his own throat. Before he's managed more than a couple of steps, there's a sharp _pop _from somewhere behind him. He doesn't need to turn to know what it is; it's been the same thing for phoebs now, and Shiro’s softly uttered, very human curse confirms it.

“How many this time?” Keith asks, resigned.

Shiro seems torn between a grimace and a helpless laugh; he never minds this part as much as Keith does, though the frequent baby-exchanges are beginning to wear on even him. “Just the one, I think.” He adds a belated, very weak, “Kosmo, _no_,” which all three of them are well aware he doesn't mean at all.

The oversized cosmic wolf is, of course, waving his tail, practically beaming with pride at his latest gift. He bypasses Keith, having learned at least that much, and gently deposits his bundle at Shiro's feet.

It's not the largest stolen child Kosmo’s ever brought them—that honor belongs to the baby weblum he had sulkily but swiftly taken back to whatever remote corner of the universe he'd retrieved it from—but the size of the blanket pile is still substantial enough to make Keith wary.

Neither Shiro nor Kosmo suffer from the same qualms; they both bend down, almost in unison, to help extricate the squirming contents. A four-fingered hand attached to a long, spindly arm emerges first, smacking the wolf’s nose so sharply he sits back on his haunches, surprised, and lets out an offended whimper.

“You're a kidnapper, what do you expect,” Keith says with a complete lack of sympathy, but steps forward anyway to pet the wolf’s shaggy head and get a closer look at their home’s newest occupant.

It's an Olkari toddler, and she's angry.

At least returning her should be fairly straightforward; the Olkari form a tightly-knit community, and even with the Coalition easing long-standing barriers on travel and relocation, they've mostly stuck to their home planet.

Keith gives Kosmo one final pat and crosses over to the breakfast bar where Shiro left his tablet, along with a half-finished mug of coffee and a plate dusted with cinnamon-spiced crumbs. It’s a familiar sight, but he can’t help scrunching his nose in distaste at the appallingly light color of the drink. Shiro has been making liberal use of their access to Earth’s resources; at this rate, he'll run through their supply of milk and sugar long before they're scheduled to report back.

_Sam says there's no harm in it, _Shiro had insisted, when Keith first voiced his concerns. _My metabolism’s closer to yours now; this body's almost inhumanly healthy. _He'd chuckled darkly, his lips twisting with something that wasn't quite humor. _Which makes sense; it's not really human, is it. It's a Galra-made body._

_It's _your_ body, Shiro, _Keith had countered, almost angrily.

Shiro hadn't said anything in return; he'd retreated into that distant, unfocused expression that meant he was reliving events that Keith hadn't been a part of and couldn't ever fully understand. It’s been getting better since then, slowly, once Shiro started letting him in enough to try.

Not that it’s changed his diet in any way, but Keith saves his energy for the battles that matter. And if it makes Shiro happy...

He glances back, to where the Olkari child is now dangling several feet off the floor, clinging to Shiro’s floating arm and giggling in delight when it dips suddenly, then swoops her a few inches higher. The Galra baby, any attempts at a nap interrupted by the fresh commotion, is tucked securely in the crook of Shiro’s other arm. They look like a family. And they can’t stay.

Keith scowls at Kosmo, who merely thumps his tail at the attention, his tongue lolling out in satisfaction at what he clearly considers yet another successful delivery. Rather than taking the time to argue the point, Keith draws Shiro’s tablet closer, tapping on the screen to activate it, then swiping some work to the side without paying much attention to the contents. He’s kept in the loop on any important communications or missions, and Shiro often shares his frustrations with the less critical tasks that occupy so much of his time.

There are a lot of those now that the war’s over and real life can come flooding back in. Keith has his fair share to deal with. Despite their regular exchange of complaints—behind closed doors, of course, where no one else can hear—neither of them would trade it. It’s a crucial, if irritating, component of the peace they’ve been building, brick by brick, planet by planet.

“Atlas to the Coalition,” he says, then waits until the image on the screen transitions to the headquarters back on Earth—a towering, Castle-like structure the Garrison helped them construct but has no authority over.

“Keith!” Allura says, sounding surprised to see him, but pleased. “The last time I spoke with Shiro, he said you were still in the Niloofian Quadrant; he must be happy you've returned so soon.”

There's no hint of reprimand in her tone, though Keith really should have gotten in contact earlier. This mission had been on the longer side; being able to unexpectedly speed up his return had meant he and Shiro had felt minimal guilt in spending the extra time...indulging.

“The elections went more smoothly than we expected; I got home two quintants ago. I’ll have a full report for you by the morning.”

“I look forward to hearing how it went,” Allura replies graciously. She sounds sincere, although she looks rather tired. It’s not something that’s immediately visible; Keith’s able to spot the difference, both from the time they spent together as paladins and from his familiarity with Shiro’s similar tendency to hide parts of himself from public view.

Both Allura and Shiro are particularly adept at keeping others from discovering—and thus exploiting—any sign of weakness. It’s part of what makes them indispensable in the Coalition’s leadership. It’s easy to trust them—to believe that they know what they’re doing and that they’ll be tireless in their efforts to achieve the universal peace they’re promising.

It also helps to be distractingly beautiful. Allura leverages her regal side when needed, using extravagant gowns, elaborate hairstyles, and eye-catching jewelry to dazzle some of the more recalcitrant planetary leaders. And Shiro...well, Shiro’s always been more than enough for Keith, even in loose Garrison sweatpants and ratty t-shirts, but he's learned to tap into his Atlas powers on demand. When his body's rimmed with Atlas’s light, his eyes glowing an ethereal blue, few can find the strength to resist him.

Keith gets lost in thought for a few ticks, wondering what it’d be like to see Shiro in traditional Altean garb, perhaps with a jewel-studded circlet resting over his silvery-white hair...

“Earth to Keith; come in Keith,” Allura is saying when he brings his attention back to the screen. Her eyes are sparkling with amusement, and Keith’s lips twitch upwards in response.

“Lance has been teaching you Earth humor again.”

“We've been watching your old movies,” she says, sounding more like herself now, with any pretense of professionalism dropped in favor of their long-standing friendship. “You humans have strange ideas of what you call alien life. Most of them are quite hideous on your...tele-vision.”

Keith smiles at the careful use of the antiquated word, then quips, dryly, “With that as a reference point, it's no wonder my pop reacted the way he did when he cracked open a UFO to find my mother.”

Allura lets out a surprised peal of laughter. It's gotten easier for them to speak of their parents, although it's still strange, sometimes, for Keith to remember he has Krolia. He'd spent long enough as an orphan to understand Allura’s grief—the need to find ways to keep the memory of them alive.

“But that's not why I called,” Keith says, reluctantly.

“Ah,” Allura replies. “And you've only been home for two quintants. Who did Kosmo bring you this time?”

“An Olkari child. Can you contact Ryner and let her know we’ll either stop by Olkarion or welcome a retrieval ship? Her parents may have already reported her missing. If not, she's old enough to know her name and her parents’. Shiro can get that information from her if it'll help.”

Allura makes a soft noise of acknowledgment as she taps at her own screen. “No need; Ryner’s just sent a message. The parents aren't overly concerned, considering the circumstances, but would like her back as soon as possible. You should be able to divert your trajectory without getting too far off schedule; you're less than three quintants out from Olkarion.”

“Tell them we’re on our way,” Keith says. At least that won't give Shiro much time to get attached.

As if they've tapped into the same wavelength, Allura’s expression grows more somber. “And there's a Galra outpost with wormhole capabilities on the way; I'll send you the coordinates. They'll be expecting you.”

Keith shifts, his back resting against the breakfast bar, to look at Shiro. He's put his Altean arm more or less where it belongs and has settled onto the floor with Kosmo and both children. The wolf has his head on his paws and is mostly ignoring them now that his job is done; Shiro is chatting earnestly with the Olkari child, bouncing the Galra baby absently in his lap in time with their conversation.

“You found the baby’s family, then.” This one had taken much longer than usual; while Shiro hadn't said it in so many words, Keith could tell he’d started to get his hopes up. Every time they'd checked in during Keith's last mission, Shiro had kept his reports on the baby’s status to a succinct: _No news_. After a while, the words had been accompanied by a soft smile Shiro couldn't quite hold back.

“No parents, but his extended family has been searching for him. They live far enough on the fringes of the Coalition’s reach that word of Kosmo’s...project hadn't spread to them until this morning.” Allura gives Keith a deeply sympathetic look. “You can tell Shiro I spoke with them directly. They seem very kind, and very happy to be reunited with their loved one.”

Across the room, Shiro looks up, their eyes connecting. Keith doesn't have to say anything; he can see the moment Shiro understands.

“At least you're there with him,” Allura says quietly. “It was rough on him, the last time he had to send one back without you.”

***

Kosmo usually allows them some breathing room before disappearing on another self-assigned retrieval mission, but Keith’s not taking any chances.

“I know you're trying to help, buddy, but you can't keep doing this to him.”

Kosmo stares back, unconvinced. They're at roughly the same eye level when standing now; while Keith's belated Galra growth spurts have stopped, leaving him only a shade shorter than Shiro, they have no idea what to expect from the wolf. He's already as large as Kaltenecker and far more obstinate.

“I mean it; you have to stop.” Keith halts there, trying to find the words that he and Shiro have been skirting around. They talk, of course, about nearly everything. But not about this—not as deeply as he knows it must go for Shiro.

“You're hurting him,” he says.

Kosmo immediately protests, his ears flattening, his breath huffing out through his nostrils in sharp disagreement.

“I know that's the opposite of what you want, and that's why I'm telling you. You think this is what he wants...what he _needs_. Maybe you’re right.” That's a conversation Keith’s well aware he and Shiro need to have. Soon. First, he has to sort this out. “But these kids you're bringing us already have families.”

Kosmo’s tail lowers. If a wolf has the capacity to look sheepish, he does, at least enough for Keith to press on, confident he's finally getting through.

“You can't steal babies from their parents.”

It's an obvious statement that he probably should've said a lot sooner, before his wolf’s actions did any damage to the Coalition’s efforts. Fortunately, all of the families thus far have been too relieved to be angry—and often so star-struck by the opportunity to meet the former Black Paladins that they forget to vent any lingering distress. That luck can't last forever; Keith's already let things drag on for far too long.

The Galra baby that Shiro hadn't named but had clearly _wanted _to was the final straw. Keith thinks of that now, as he stares into Kosmo’s golden eyes. “That baby you brought us, the one we just gave back: he didn't have parents, but he wasn't an orphan. He still had a family. They were worried about him.”

Kosmo gets it; Keith can tell. He shows it with an apologetic tail wag, and with an unpleasant but affectionate swipe of his tongue across Keith's face.

“Good,” Keith says, relieved. “Good boy, buddy. I'm glad we understand each other now.”

That's when Kosmo starts bringing them orphans.

***

“As far as I can tell, none of the children have any living relations,” Allura says.

The Atlas is back on Earth for their regularly scheduled debriefing and what Shiro refers to as “shore leave”—a return to solid ground from the vast, often tumultuous expanse of space. What it usually means is the increasingly rare ability to step away from work for a while, to unwind without worrying about the endless cascade of responsibilities. The two of them typically spend half of it remembering what it’s like to race their hoverbikes across the desert, and half in bed. Sometimes sleeping, sometimes not, depending on how draining the last few missions have been.

With the way things have been going, the relaxation piece of their time on Earth seems to have been completely swept off the table.

“That means you haven’t been able to find them?” Shiro asks. He’s leaning back in his chair, his Altean arm resting on the conference table, a tablet held loosely in his fingers. On the surface, he’s the portrait of casual ease. Out of sight, though, his left hand is gripping Keith’s thigh—a little too tightly to be comfortable now. He relaxes slightly when Keith sets his hand on top of Shiro’s.

_I’m here_. It’s a simple, familiar reminder that helps to ground both of them.

“No,” Allura says. “It’s possible some will come forward in time, but I suspect not. From the information we’ve been able to gather thus far, it seems that Kosmo has become more...discerning in his choices.”

Shiro looks down at the data scrolling across his tablet, turning his hand so his fingers link more securely with Keith’s. Rather than activating his own darkened screen, Keith leans in to read alongside Shiro, although he’s fairly certain he can already guess the contents.

Out of the ten children Kosmo’s brought them since their last talk, only two have origins that remain unaccounted for. The rest have been traced back to overstuffed orphanages or war-ravaged planets.

“They don’t have anyone,” Shiro concludes finally. “Sounds like some of these orphanages are willing to take them back, but they’re already strapped for resources and far past capacity, so Kosmo showing up was almost...”

“A relief,” Keith says. He feels tired, suddenly, unable to fully sort through his swirl of emotions. He’s not sure whether he’s more frustrated with Kosmo, himself, or the generations-spanning devastation that can't be immediately wiped away simply by ending a war.

“So what do we do?” Shiro asks. “It’s not like before; there’s no easy solution.”

“The Coalition has some resources, as you know,” Allura says. “We’ll help where we can. I’ll call a full meeting of the counsel to begin putting together an actionable plan. Since the Atlas was already on its way here, I wanted to speak with the two of you first.”

Shiro sets his tablet down, using two fingers to push it away. It's a small, seemingly meaningless gesture that Keith recognizes as an outlet to keep his simmering impatience from boiling over.

“And in the meantime?” Shiro asks. “I'm all for building better galactic orphanages or assembling adoption agencies. That'll take time.”

And while they wait, sitting in boardrooms, discussing plans, and negotiating complex bureaucratic tangles, what will happen to the children?

The unspoken question comes through, loud and clear. It’s a burden that weighs on all of them, that Keith had learned with the Blades, then during his time leading Voltron. No matter how hard they fight or how many personal sacrifices they make, it’s not possible to save everyone. They’ve done their best; they’re still doing their best. That has to be enough. But Keith knows it never really will be.

“I understand completely,” Allura says. She looks towards the glass wall that separates their room from the corridor outside; Keith twists slightly, too, to find that Lance must’ve appeared at some point during their conversation, which has extended well past its scheduled time. They’ve had a lot to cover.

Lance isn’t paying attention to them; he’s occupied with an armful of wiggling toddlers in color-coordinated, extremely sparkly dresses. His and Allura’s twins are just old enough to walk on their own but are still happier to be held, or twirled through the air like they’re flying, as Lance is doing now. They’re giggling; although the room is soundproof, Keith can see the joy on their faces, so like Allura’s.

“They’ve been excited to see you and Shiro,” Allura says when Keith turns back. She ducks her head slightly, with a blush that means Lance must’ve finally caught sight of her. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she continues, more solemnly, “Lance and I discussed whether it would possible to house a few of the children until we find more permanent solutions. I know Coran will be happy to help.”

Coran leaving the Atlas for a place at the Coalition Headquarters had been a blow, but not a surprise; although he’d been a valuable asset and a good friend during their journeys together, his primary loyalty would always lie with Allura and her family. Once Allura discovered she was pregnant, there’d been no question of him staying. Yet even with Coran’s babysitting expertise, it wouldn’t be fair to double the size of their household so quickly.

Shiro speaks up first, finally letting go of Keith’s hand. He’s beginning to make his peace with it, then, transitioning into his practical mode now that they’re forging ahead with more concrete ideas. “I appreciate you offering, Allura, but you and Lance are already stretched thin as it is.”

“Once they’re out of diapers, it gets easier. Somewhat, anyway,” Allura replies, with a laugh that conveys exactly how much she’d enjoyed the early days of being both a mother and the Coalition’s leader, when sleep or time for herself were entirely foreign concepts.

“About half of them are old enough for that,” Keith says, already thinking through which children will fit the best into Allura’s household and what the next steps should be. “I don’t think they’ll need to stay with you for long. I’ll get in touch with Kolivan and my mother; the Blades have networks that may help.”

“True,” Shiro says. “We didn’t think of it before, since we weren’t trying to rehome any of the kids Kosmo brought us, but it’s something they’ve been doing on a smaller scale for some time.”

“Wonderful; I’ll be sure to include them in our next discussion,” Allura says, either making a note on her tablet or—as Keith’s and Shiro’s tablets buzz with simultaneous notifications—already sending out the invitation.

“The first priority will be to find permanent homes for the ten we have now,” Keith continues. Like Shiro, once there’s the nucleus of a plan in place, his mind plunges ahead, filling in the rest of the details. “Or eight—Shiro and I may be able to keep one or two.”

Shiro startles next to him, saying Keith’s name so softly he sounds almost breathless. “You’d..._two_?” he asks.

“The Atlas is big, but Shiro, we’d never be able to take care of all of them,” Keith says, keeping his voice as gentle as he can manage.

“That’s not..._Keith_. You’d want to keep them?” Shiro’s staring at him like nothing else in the room—in the _universe_, maybe—exists outside of the two of them.

Allura clears her throat lightly and stands to her feet. “Keith, I’ll check in with you again tomorrow, after you’ve had a chance to talk with Krolia. This seems like a private conversation you’ll be having with your husband; I’ll leave you to it, since mine appears to be growing rather impatient.”

Keith glances at the windows, where Lance and the twins have their faces pressed against the glass, twisting their expressions through a series of increasingly strange contortions.

“You’re right,” Shiro says, his eyes still fixed on Keith. “I think we need to talk.”

***

The conversation doesn’t happen immediately. They get the kids settled first, which always takes far longer than Keith expects, even when they enlist help. This time, help comes in the form of the Holts—other than Pidge, who long ago expressed her complete lack of interest in diapers, bathtime, or doing _any_ type of funny voices for bedtime stories—along with Hunk’s family, and Coran, with whom they spend an exhaustingly enjoyable couple of vargas catching up before he departs with three Galra toddlers trailing after him like a row of sleepy ducklings.

“Mmm, I missed you,” Shiro breathes as soon as the door slides shut, wrapping his arms around Keith and pressing his face against Keith’s throat.

“I’ve been right here, Shiro,” Keith says. He strokes through the soft hair at the nape of Shiro’s neck. It’s starting to get long enough to brush against his uniform collar. He’ll trim it soon, irritated at its length, or ask Keith to; they haven’t had much time for that sort of thing lately.

“I know,” Shiro says. He lifts his head until his lips meet Keith’s—an effortless movement now that their heights are so similar. There’s no urgency to it; they exchange slow, lazy kisses until Shiro suddenly yawns halfway through one, then chuckles and drops his head down again, this time with his forehead resting against Keith’s shoulder. “And I thought defending the universe was hard,” he mumbles, muffled but still audible.

Keith kisses the side of his head; Shiro’s hair tickles his lips, but he doesn’t pull back immediately, breathing in his warmth, savoring the secure weight of Shiro in his arms. “Bed?” he asks, when Shiro’s breathing starts to even out suspiciously.

“Too early for that.”

Keith cracks a yawn, too, and Shiro chuckles again.

“Or maybe not. Are you too tired to fill me in on how the call went?”

They transition to the couch after removing the most constricting parts of their uniforms—enough of a compromise for Shiro to be content. They settle into Keith’s favorite position after a little bit of jostling and some grumbling from both sides. Shiro doesn’t usually like to be coddled and absolutely won’t permit it if anyone else is around. Sometimes, though, he lets himself relax enough to lie along the couch, his head resting in Keith’s lap, enjoying the languid movement of Keith’s fingers through his hair.

He blinks sleepily, his eyelashes fluttering closed, then back open with some visible effort. “Did your mom have any advice for us?” he asks.

“To do this,” Keith says, laughing a little when Shiro’s mouth settles into what he’d adamantly deny was a pout. He’s being serious, still, not ready to let go of the day’s worries just yet.

“_Keith_,” he says.

Keith tugs gently at Shiro’s forelock before stroking it back from his face, leaving his fingers tangled there to keep it in place. It’s difficult to not bend down to kiss Shiro, but he’s spent close to half his life learning patience; he resists. For now.

“She started putting out feelers when she got Allura’s message. She said she’d been thinking about it, anyway, with the way Kosmo’s been acting. Figured some of their contacts might come in handy.”

Shiro nods slightly, letting Keith get to the rest on his own without attempting to pull more details free. He can usually sense whether Keith needs space or a little bit of extra prodding. He’s had that uncanny ability since long before their friendship deepened into something far more intimate.

Keith touches the high arch of Shiro’s cheekbone, then traces along the perfect slope of his scarred nose, using the much-loved features to center himself.

“She hasn’t worked directly with the rehoming network in a while, but it’s definitely still running. Maybe a little less smoothly than it used to, so this will be a good way to get it back on track.” He lets his hand trail down Shiro’s face, absently. “She said it’s something Antok used to be in charge of. It was important to him.”

Shiro turns his head just enough for his lips to brush against Keith’s wrist. It’s not a kiss, exactly—more a signal that Shiro’s there, that he’s listening. That he understands what it’s like to mourn the warriors—and friends—they’ve lost. The list of names is almost too long to track now, filled with those, like Antok, whom they’d never really had the chance to get to know. Someone who had mattered deeply to people Keith cared about and who, until his last breath, had given tirelessly of himself to help countless others.

The Blades are a family that, in many cases, have lost their own. Keith doesn’t know Antok’s full story. Kolivan would be able to tell him why this project had been particularly meaningful to Antok—whether he’d had children of his own at some point, or if he’d been rescued by the Blades himself when he was younger. More likely, Kolivan would gruffly tell Keith that what mattered was carrying on his legacy. The reasons weren’t important; his actions were.

Keith lifts his hand away from the side of Shiro’s throat, where he’d had his fingers lightly resting. Without being fully conscious of it, he’d been tracking Shiro’s pulse point, breathing in time with its steady, reassuring beat. “And I had another talk with Kosmo. He’s pretty grumpy about it, but I think this time he’ll actually stop. I promised that we’d find good homes for all the kids we have now, and for as many others as we can. That seemed to help.”

“Do you think the way you found Kosmo has something to do with all this?”

“Maybe,” Keith says. He’d thought of that, too: another seeming orphan who’d come into his life at the point when Keith was just discovering that he _wasn’t_ one. “I’m not sure if he thinks he’s helping _us_ or them. Probably both.”

Keith had let his palm settle against Shiro’s chest, where he could still feel the quiet thump of his heart; Shiro reaches up to entwine their fingers. “Keith...” he asks. “What you said earlier. Did you mean it?”

It’s an unnecessary question, in some ways. Keith doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. Shiro’s asking more than that; he waits while Keith takes time to unpack his answer.

“I know what it’s like to be without anyone,” he says eventually. “The Garrison—_you—_helped me to find a place for myself. I never really thought about the guys who got left behind.”

“Neither did I,” Shiro admits. They were young then, preoccupied with their own dreams. Chance had brought them together—or fate, if they’d believed in such things. And now they have a fresh opportunity to make a difference.

It aligns with the Coalition’s post-war efforts: rebuilding what they’d helped to break. They’ve had to limit their emotional investment, moving from planet to planet without getting too bogged down in attempts to restore every family, every community. They can’t put all the pieces back together; all they can do is help to get the process started.

Bringing anyone—especially children—into their home is something Keith had never considered. He’s not sure if that means he’s been selfish, short-sighted, or simply pragmatic. He puts Shiro first; he always has. Shiro, then his family, his team, his friends. There has to be an element of practicality in what they do for others, or they would’ve collapsed under the pressure long ago.

_What does Shiro want?_ Keith thinks, then asks him.

Shiro doesn’t have an immediate answer. It’s surprising; Keith had expected...he’s not sure what he’d expected, actually, but not this. Not the hesitation that means Shiro isn’t as sold on Kosmo’s adoption services as Keith had assumed.

Like Keith, Shiro approaches the question at an angle. “I spent a year in the arena, fighting for my life. Killing others so I could keep myself safe. For a while, I didn’t have any of my memories from that time—from when I was the Champion.”

“Because of the trauma,” Keith says.

The memories all filtered back, slowly, some taking deca-phoebs to fully materialize. Shiro still startles awake sometimes, soaked in sweat and shaking. It’s not always the arena; on the worst nights, he leaves their bed. Keith’s found him on the observation deck, in the sparring room, or occasionally still in their quarters, his floating arm rocking a Galra cradle while he scrolls through his tablet in another part of the room, using work to keep his mind busy. Sometimes he dreams about dying. Sometimes he’s hurting Keith—using brute strength to overpower him, smelling Keith’s flesh sizzling under his sword.

Those are the nights when Shiro doesn’t like to be touched.

He’s holding on tightly now, his vulnerability on display in a way he only allows with Keith.

“The trauma’s a part of it. But I think that...I was intentionally blocking things out.” Shiro’s voice takes on a ragged edge. “Everyone in that arena had people who loved them, who were waiting for them to come home. I was able to save Matt, but the rest—the other prisoners, the Galra. I killed them, Keith. Because I wanted to live.”

Leaving one hand caught in Shiro’s grasp, Keith resumes stroking his husband’s quintessence-bleached hair with the other, watching the gold band on his finger glint in the room’s low light. He lets the slow, soothing movements speak for him. He can’t say what he’s really feeling: that he’s glad. Grateful that Shiro chose his own life. In the end, that decision had helped to save the universe, but the truth is, Keith cares more about the fact that it brought the two of them back together. That it kept _Shiro_ safe, here with him.

Shiro closes his eyes for a tick, then resolutely tilts his head to meet Keith’s gaze. “When Kosmo started bringing us these babies, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About their families—about kids like these who’d never be able to see their parents again thanks to me. And it’s not just the arena, Keith. The ten we have now—they’re still mostly Galra. How many of them are orphans because of Voltron? Because of us.”

“We can’t change that,” Keith says. “We saved a lot of families, too. It’s not easy to think about, but if we’d pulled Voltron’s punches...”

“I know,” Shiro says.

They lapse into silence, both probably going through similar mental lists. The times they might not have needed to destroy a Galra cruiser. The ones they’d let slip past them, that had gone on to destroy rebel crafts, or burn through entire cities on planets that resisted Zarkon’s rule. Their friends who might still be alive if they’d acted more decisively at critical moments.

Keith strokes his thumb over the lobe of Shiro’s ear, then behind it, until Shiro lets out a long, steadying breath.

“What do _you_ want, Keith?” he asks.

“I want you,” Keith says, simply. It’s the most honest answer he can give.

On other days that might be enough to satisfy Shiro. He looks conflicted, like he wants to echo the sentiment but isn’t willing to steer them away from the talk they’ve already put off for too long.

Keith hasn’t brought it up because he hasn’t known what to say. He tries, now. For Shiro.

“Beyond that...I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it, for either good or bad.”

With the orphanage, the Garrison, Voltron, the Blades, the Coalition, the fear of losing Shiro threading through so many of those...there’d never been space to dwell on what might come _after_. He does his best to picture it. Expanding their family to four. Five, when Krolia has the time to join them. It’s not hard to imagine a baby clutching handfuls of Kosmo’s fur as it takes its first wobbly steps, or Shiro braiding their daughter’s hair, or teaching her how to fight. It’s not anything Keith had consciously planned for his life, but there’s something...nice about envisioning that kind of future with Shiro.

“Having kids,” he says, slowly, still holding the images in his mind. “I think I’d like to, with you.”

“Eventually,” Shiro says.

And that’s the difficult part. Keith cups Shiro’s jaw in his palm, his heart aching. With the way their lives are now, the stretches of time they barely get to spend together as it is...

“I’m not ready yet, Shiro.”

Shiro turns his face into Keith’s touch, his features flooding with relief—and guilt. “Neither am I,” he says quietly.

It should come as a surprise, but after what Shiro’s said tonight, Keith’s pretty sure he understands. “Not now, or not ever?” he asks, to get everything out in the open.

Their quarters are quiet; it seems like it’s been forever since it was only the two of them. Even Kosmo disappeared somewhere after their talk, probably to play with the Holts’ dog or drool on Allura’s furniture. Maybe intentionally, to give them the space to hash all of this out.

Keith can hear the click of Shiro’s throat as he swallows, the creak of couch cushions as he shifts slightly, not used to staying in one position for this long. He doesn’t attempt to move, though, neither of them willing to let go of each other just yet.

“I don’t want to take in children out of guilt,” Shiro says. “It wouldn’t be fair to any of us. If we couldn’t _find _homes for them, that’s one thing, but I...” He falters, clearly still struggling with that impossible need to carry the entire universe on his shoulders.

“We’ll find them homes, Shiro. For the ones Kosmo brought us, and as many others as we can. I promised him that, and I can promise you, too.”

“They deserve to be with families who love them,” Shiro says softly. “Who’re ready for and _excited_ _about_ that kind of responsibility. I don’t think we’re there yet. But...I want to be, someday.”

There’s a question lingering behind his words, one he’s not directly asking but still needs Keith to answer.

Keith’s been patient for long enough; he cups Shiro’s face in his hands and leans down to kiss him. It’s an awkward angle that gets better as Shiro lifts himself up on an elbow and moves into the kiss, each touch of their lips communicating what it’s sometimes so difficult to say aloud.

They’re safe. The universe is as safe as they can make it, and they’ll do everything in their power to keep it that way. And someday...they’ll start building a family together. For now, this is more than enough.

***

Kosmo doesn't bring them any babies for a while after that.

They explore the universe—sometimes together, sometimes apart, when their missions require it. Those separations grow less frequent over time, as their longing for each other intensifies and the universe finally begins to require a little less of them.

If they both have their way, they'll reach a point where they never have to spend a single quintant apart.

Allura and Lance’s twins get older, taking on Allura’s height and too much of Lance’s personality. Fortunately, they also inherit Allura’s beauty and strength. Hunk and Shay start a family. Matt gets married. Pidge laughs, saying she's far too busy building robots to even consider it; she splits her time between Earth and Olkarion, occasionally hopping a ride on the Atlas to visit distant galaxies where she’s heard rumors of interesting technology.

Then one day, there's a familiar _pop _echoing through their quarters, followed by a startled “Oh!” from Shiro. When Keith goes to check on him, he finds Shiro in their bedroom, holding a tightly-swaddled baby.

“He looks like Ulaz,” Shiro says in awe. He starts to unwrap the baby to get a better view, then backtracks with, “Well...kind of.”

Privately, Keith thinks it's one of the stranger-looking babies they've seen yet. It has an exaggeratedly pointed chin, two-toned lavender skin, a ragged strip of white hair along its head, and shaggy white eyebrows that are much too large for its face, all of which probably spurred Shiro's initial reaction. But it also has unnervingly sharp teeth, what appear to be suction cups at the ends of its tiny fingers and toes—a nightmare for babyproofing once it’s old enough to start walking, or climbing—and huge, furry ears that remind Keith more of Thace.

“He's beautiful,” Shiro says, looking absolutely smitten.

Keith reaches down to touch the narrow bridge of the baby’s dark lavender nose. “Hey little bud,” he says. The baby squirms and bares its rows of fangs, making an odd squeaking noise.

He grins and tries again, this time tickling the fuzzy point of one big ear. The baby kicks its three-toed feet, bubbling into another round of squeaky laughter and reaching its arms out in a clear demand to be held.

Shiro obediently passes the baby over and moves to Keith’s side, wrapping his arm securely around Keith’s waist.

Keith automatically leans into the touch, tilting the baby towards Shiro so it can see them both. “What are you thinking?” he asks, although he hardly needs Shiro to put it into words.

“I think we should name him Yorak,” Shiro says, with the kind of throaty, relaxed chuckle that it took far too long after the war to start hearing again.

He’s joking, but Keith doesn’t laugh immediately. He has a flash of memory suddenly, a blip from the Quantum Abyss visions that he either hadn’t fully processed at the time, or had set aside as a figment of his own imagination, since it’d been mixed in with more detailed glimpses of his mother’s past. He lets both sets of memories come forward in his mind, overlaying them: a baby, with two parents gazing lovingly down at its tiny form. Two dissimilar voices—one female, one male—saying _Yorak_.

“Keith,” Shiro says, softer now, catching at least some of the drift of his thoughts. “Do you think...”

They’re both ready. They’ve probably been ready for longer than they’ve known. They were just waiting for the right time. For the right baby. For _their_ baby to join them.

“Yeah,” Keith says. He touches one tiny purple hand, smiling when it wraps possessively around his finger. From across the room, Kosmo thumps his tail in approval—of his own actions, probably, and of them finally listening to him. Keith lifts his gaze to meet Shiro’s, seeing the same answer reflected there. “I think this one’s ours.”

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a continuation of my 40k fic, [Last to Know](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285277/chapters/38085512), but can definitely be read as taking place in the same timeline. The only difference is that Keith finally stopped waiting for the cosmic wolf to tell them his true name.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/paintedrecs) and (sometimes) [tumblr](https://appreciateshiro.tumblr.com/)!


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